Girly Slumber Party With Eridan
by Selena Estella
Summary: For her 'swimming'-day, Feferi makes Eridan spend some time with her, resulting in fluffy if hair-raising shenanigans. That pun was terrible. I'm sorry. Oneshot.


Another prompt I did =]

Not so fluffy or romantic as the GamTav one, but I still enjoyed writing it.

Might possibly fit into a later part of the 'Adolescence' universe if you squint.

* * *

Your name is ERIDAN AMPORA.

And you simply CANNOT BELIEVE that this is happening.

'Come _on_, Eridan!' Feferi giggles, tugging at your arm, attempting to drag you nearer to the piece of torture equipment at the other end of her block. You dig your heels into the carpet and _do not move_. 'It'll be _fun!_' She gives up on dragging and starts to push instead. _Damn_ is she strong. You find yourself beginning to slide and hastily grab hold of the door.

Feferi lets go and for a moment you think you've won. Then she stomps back round to get right in your face, lips moulded into a perfect pout. Then she crosses her arms. Oh shit.

'_Eridan_,' she says sternly. 'You _promised_ you would do any-fin I basked!'

You gulp. Feferi has developed the ability to be _extremely_ scary when she wants to be. 'W-well,' you begin. 'I didn't know it would inwolve _this_, did I?' She stops pouting and immediately adopts a deeply wounded look that is the equivalent to a stab in the chest. Ouch.

'B-but... it's my swimming day...' She bites her lip and flutters her eyelashes. You feel the blood rise to your cheeks as you engage in a furious internal battle. Should you? Shouldn't you? Would it be worth it? Would it make any _difference?_

Then she does that thing where her eyes go huge and round and adorable and that's it.

'_Fiiiiiiiiiine_...' you moan, rolling your eyes. Letting her have her way doesn't mean you have to enjoy it. 'If it'll make you _that_ happy...'

'Yay!' All hurt is instantly abandoned and she grabs your arms again. This time you don't put up a fight as she drags you towards her fancy fuchsia vanity, littered with lipstick tubs and trays of eye shadow and those little bows she's taken to adorning her hair with.

And yours too, whenever she gets the chance.

All dignity is scheduled to be lost in... oh, less than an hour probably.

...Good God, she's even got ones which match your blood colour. And you _bet_ that Sollux is behind that.

She sits you down in the spindly padded chair, beaming with excitement. You manage to smile very halfheartedly as she picks up an overly-pink brush and gets to work. It took you ages to style your hair, too. You did it especially for her... not that she's noticed.

...The feeling of her hands in your hair is quite nice, actually. Even if she is messing it up completely by forcing it to assume a style _designed_ for a girl.

And in no time at all, your hair is nothing but a frilly fuchsia mess. Or at least, it is in your opinion. Feferi has one of those magazine things with styles in it and has copied one perfectly. You have to admit that she's good at this.

'Now do me!' she squeals. Ah, _this_ you can manage. Enjoy, even. Your smile is genuine as you equip a brush in one hand and a comb in the other. Spending nearly all of one's time underwater makes managing hair a living hell – one reason why _you_ spend so much time on land – so there's no way you'll be able to achieve something as artful as the more complicated styles in the magazine. But you can still work wonders with some gel and a few tools...

One thing you enjoy about Feferi's hair is how much of it there is. You are _never_ growing your own hair out _ever_, and never have. So you like being about to style Feferi's wavy tangled mess by plaiting in bits of brightly-coloured seaweed, and ribbons that trail when she swims, and even nestle a few small shells in the curls on top of her head.

And she loves it, she's told you so, and she never stops smiling or giving her own suggestions. She finds it hard to style her own hair, not only because there's so much of it but because no troll can look at the back or his of her head well enough to style it without a very large collection of mirrors.

When you are done, she takes a picture which will no doubt find its way onto the internet of you and her, in the mirror, hair all tangled with ribbons and bows and sparkly slips. And you're both smiling.

'And now,' she begins, eyes gleaming. 'For the _make up!_'

And instantly, you really,_ really _hate her sleepovers again.


End file.
